


We Weren't Born Bad, We Just Got There

by ElisabethMonroe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, New Beginning, Runaway, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:27:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1572725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/pseuds/ElisabethMonroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl Powers and Richard Brook were best friends. Then something changes their life, changes their very being and essence and they run away, try to restart away from Ireland and away from the life they've known for fifteen years. Enter Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty, unsure of how to go about their young, shattered life and stick all the pieces back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Death and Birth in One Day

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!!! Very explicit rape scene. Homophobic bullying. Non-Con. I didn't want to put it as an over all warning because it's only in this chapter with mentions of it and references to it in later chapters.   
> As always, if you find tense changes tell me in the doobly do. Also, if the name seems wrong somewhere, it probably is and please tell me in the doobly do.

Carl Powers and Richard Brook were best friends. Really close best friends. This boded ill for the fifteen year olds as they were often mistaken for a gay couple by the inhabitants in their small Irish hometown.

Richard was a short, slight brunet with wide, innocent eyes. He was quiet and reserved, thinking himself far superior to everyone but Carl. Carl, in contrast, was tall, broad shouldered, muscular, blond and had cold, hard blue eyes. Any trace of innocence had been beaten from him after years of living with his father.

They had their own hobbies. Richard loved space and could stare at the sky for hours, curled on top of Carl, feeling safe with the blond’s arms around him.  He loved reading about gorey things and learning about chemistry and poisons. There by default, chemistry led to Carl mastering the ability to blow things up. At any given point, the stoic, silent brute was training for the military as his father had insisted he’d do since he was a small child. He wasn’t allowed to play rugby because it conflicted with training, but swimming didn’t. Eager to be more involved in school and less involved with his father, Carl quickly threw himself, literally and figuratively, into the water and quickly became one of the best swimmers in the area, if not the country, if not all of Great Britain. He was on the fast track to the Olympics, which pushed off talk of the military for the time being.

Both boys were beyond intelligent. Carl wasn’t up to Richard’s level of sheer brilliance, because that’s what he was. Richard was absolutely brilliant. He remembered everything he read and saw. He kept physical and mental logs of people’s habits and ticks and tells. He found out everything that he could, absorbed it like a dying man sucked in water. Carl was book smart to a reasonable amount. Richard wouldn’t put up with him if he wasn’t. No, he was able to keep up in his advanced courses, usually only falling behind when he couldn’t do his homework because of his father. However, Carl’s real potential laid in his street smarts. Richard was decent enough, reading people kept him out of too much trouble and allowed him to avoid it when he had been caught, but Carl was something else. He was fast and quick, preferring to fight with his fists than his words but being equally graceful in both. He was self-sacrificing, which was, apparently, admirable to dangerous people on the streets. More times than not, Carl laying down his pride to protect Richard was what got them out of things faster than actually fighting. Richard had an issue with his pride. Carl could easily give it up to save their lives.

Which, happened more than it ever should for two fifteen year olds. It seemed that everywhere they went there was someone else out there for them to deal with. They didn’t live in the nicest section of town. Well, Carl did, but he always walked Richard home and he had to cross through the more terrifying areas with Richard then alone. As two younger boys, older kids and adults tended to try to knock them around, mug them or worse, an instance which both boys swore they’d never talk about again. At school, they were the punching bags, knowing that the chances of Carl beating their faces in were pretty high unless they got to Richard first, then the other wouldn’t even raise his voice, much less a fist. This revelation didn’t help their sexuality crusade, as both still maintained that they were straight. It wasn’t their fault Richard was too weird to date and Carl was too scary to date.

The last time anyone ever touched them was a Tuesday. Carl was in Geometry, trying not to fall asleep as his teacher droned on and on about sine and cosine and SOHCAHTOA. He didn’t like math and being with Richard put him several years ahead of this since the boy loved it and would randomly teach Carl something. At the thought of his best friend, he wondered what he was doing. He’d be in Biology right now. Probably going over the review they’d gotten yesterday. Carl knew that Richard wouldn’t sit through that and knew he’d be in the bathroom that the boys disappeared to to be alone. Well, this class wasn’t doing anything for him anyway. He shifted and raised his hand, signing for bathroom. That was one thing he liked about this teacher. She’d always have them sign a request rather than say it out loud. The older woman nodded and Carl stood up, leaving quickly.

The halls were empty other than the occasional student going to their locker or to get a drink. Carl made it to the bathroom with no interruptions and stepped inside, kicking the door shut and knocking the stopper down. He was just about to call out to Richard when he was suddenly hit at the base of his skull, making him collapse against the floor. Someone straddled his hips, one knee on the small of Carl’s back. A hand fisted in his hair, jerking his head up. For the first time, Carl saw Richard. His shirt was torn and bloody. He wasn’t sure there was a spot on the brunet’s face that didn’t have blood on it. His mouth was duct taped and tear streams stood out against the dirt and blood on his cheeks. Carl’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly, wanting to scream. His mouth opened but his face was suddenly smashed against the floor. Pain exploded across his face and blood pooled under his nose immediately.

“And here we were thinking we were just stopping some first year from seeing what we were doing,” someone hummed, pressing Carl’s face into the ground, making his nose ache even more. “Instead, we got another fucking fag. The one that belongs to this one.”

Carl heard an awful sound and suddenly Richard was laying next to him, groaning and cringing in pain. “Don’t!” Carl cried as he saw Richard pulled back up. “Please don’t! I’ll do anything!”

This didn’t stop the older boys from punching Richard hard in the face, sending him onto his back. “Pick him up,” one of them demanded, nodding to Carl. “And the other one.” Carl was pulled to his knees, fist still in his hair, holding his head back. “Are you watching, fairy?” the boy asked, looking back at Richard. “Is this your precious guardian? I don’t see why you keep him around. He’s a bit useless.” A foot lodged in his stomach and Carl saw stars. He couldn’t breathe but he was coughing and his head ached though it was numb. He tried to double over but couldn’t. He was held upright. A fist hit his temple and Carl actually blacked out. He woke up to his arm being twisted behind his back, hard enough to feel it pull on his collar bone. Richard was crying again, staring at Carl with wide, helpless eyes.

“What would you do for him, great fearsome one?” someone else asked, letting Carl stay bent over and stepping on his back hard. Carl cried out, biting his lip afterwards.

“Anything. I’ll do anything!” he whimpered. “Please! Do anything you want to me but don’t hurt him!” He couldn’t see them but he knew the boys were grinning at each other. He was hauled back to his knees by the collar and saw the bigger boy go for his own zipper, pulling it down and then pulling his dick out.

“Go on then. This should be good for you. You like this. Suck him off, faggot,” the other demanded, shoving Carl’s head. The blond’s nose grazed the other’s dick and he let out a broken sob.

“I’m not gay! I don’t know how to do that!” He was terrified. He hadn’t been with many people and never anything past kissing. This was terrifying. This was awful. He didn’t know what to do.

“Then we’ll just have your boyfriend do it,” the bigger one said, going over to Richard, running the tip of his dick along the crease in the duct tape.

“No! I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I lied. I know how to! He doesn’t. He’s straight. He’s grossly straight. That’s why I’m always with him. I’m trying to convince him he isn’t.” Carl was sobbing at this point, crying hard but he wouldn’t let them ruin Richard.

The other smirked and came back, running a bloody hand up and down his dick a few times until it started to stiffen. “Go on then, faggot.”

Carl took a deep breath and leaned forward, not touching him yet. Suddenly a strong hand was on his chin, splitting his jaws, opening his mouth. He shoved his dick into Carl’s mouth and the blond gagged, eyes watering. “Shut up, fag. You’re used to worse.” Carl shook his head, wanting to pull back but there was suddenly another hand in his hair, holding him still. He didn’t think it could get worse but it did. The bigger boy began thrusting into Carl's mouth, sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. He didn’t seem to care that he was hitting everything in Carl’s mouth, his throat, his tongue, his teeth, the ridges along the top. If anything, it made those awful, ludicrous sounds worse. Louder, more often. Carl’s stomach rolled painfully. Tears were streaming down his face and he couldn’t breathe again. He could see Richard hyperventilating and sucking the tape into and out of his mouth.

The blond’s head was suddenly pulled away. “I’m gonna come now and you’re going to hold it in your mouth, got it, faggot? Or I’m gonna have my friend repeat this to your boyfriend.” The boy behind Carl shifted uncomfortably, obviously not aware of this new development. Carl simply nodded. “Don’t swallow, don’t spit, don’t pull away.”

His face was forced back into the other’s crotch, mouth open again. It was only seconds before there was a hot liquid sliding down his throat and sitting heavy in his mouth like everything he never said and everything he had said and everything that led right to this. “Oh, aren’t you cute, full of my load and saving your boyfriend. If you love him so much, why don’t you go kiss him? Show us how much you love him.”

Carl started to swallow before a now familiar hand was tight around his neck. “I told you not to swallow, faggot.” Carl stared up at him, glared really. The person he hadn’t realized had been standing on his legs suddenly stood up, bringing new pain to his legs. He was shoved to Richard, having to catch himself on his hands before standing up in front of Richard. Tears wouldn’t stop raining down their cheeks, a silent, helpless apology. “Go, fags.”

Carl softly trailed his fingers down Richard’s cheeks, staring at the blood all over them. He gently pulled the duct tape away, staring at Richard’s pale pink, soft, untouched lips. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. “I swear he’ll get on his knees too,” the bigger one said, hitting Carl’s shoulder blade with something that wasn’t a fist. Maybe a book or knife or something. The blond slowly bent his head, pressing his tight, closed lips to Richard’s. “I know that’s not how you faggots kiss. Open your damn mouths.” Carl let out a high pitched whine, pulling away to look at Richard with wide, sad eyes. Richard nodded softly and Carl pressed his lips to Richard’s. Both sets of inexperienced, now tainted lips parted and the spunk slid from Carl’s mouth down their chins and into Richard’s mouth in equal part. He heard Richard whimper and Carl suddenly wrapped his arms around Richard in a tight, protective embrace, promising that he was right there too.

“Swallow.” The command is clear and Carl slowly parted their lips, feeling the newly slicked blood and come dripping off his face. He kept his eyes fixed on Richard as he swallowed thickly, watching Richard do the same thing. Carl slowly lowered his hand to Richard’s, twining their fingers and holding onto him tightly, not willing to let go of him.

Loud, awful laughter vibrated around them. “Shit, we didn’t think you’d actually do it!” Carl looked over to see the bigger boy doubled over in laughter. The smaller one is looker more than uncomfortable. “I just wanted to see how much you’d do.”

As Richard collapsed, Carl was there to catch him, glad to see he hadn’t fainted. He honestly had no idea what he’d do if he’d passed out. A few more kicks were added to Carl’s ribs and back and to Richard’s legs before there was suddenly no one there but them, the door banging shut. Richard clutched to Carl’s shirt, both boy’s crying hard and holding onto each other, feeling more violated than they’d ever thought possible.

Carl was the first to move, sitting Richard up against the wall and wetting paper towels before coming back and slowly beginning to wipe down his face. Richard only whimpered and keened, holding onto Carl’s left wrist. “It’s okay,” Carl breathed, blinking away tears because even he didn’t believe that.

Richard nodded and remained silent. Carl finished his task in silence before throwing away the bloody paper. “Feel better?” he asked softly. Richard shook his head, staring at nothing in particular. After a moment, he stood up and repeated the gesture to Carl, wiping down his face and trying to muse some sense back into his hair.

“I need to wash out my mouth,” Richard said quietly, the first words he’d said since Carl had found him. It wasn’t sad. It wasn’t angry. It was matter of fact and that broke Carl’s heart. He had a feeling he just lost an integral part of his best friend through this and he hated it.

Carl simply nodded and stood up with Richard, keeping him close. The blond was limping badly, entire lower leg aching on both legs. “I’m sorry,” he finally whimpered out, pulling the door open. They still had ten minutes until the next class. That torture couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes but it felt like an eternity.

“It’s not your fault,” Richard muttered, bee lining for the water fountain. He pressed the button, letting the water simply run into and out of his mouth, not keeping any of it in his mouth. After a few seconds, he did suck in water, spitting it back out, water splashing all over the sides, his stomach and the ground. After he was done, he pushed Carl to the fountain, making him do the same thing. The blond choked as soon as he had to hold it in his mouth and after that he became obsessive in cleaning his mouth, taking almost two whole minutes just spitting water out of his mouth, gagging and throwing up once. Richard stayed behind him, rubbing the blond’s back and kissing his hair. It was so innocent, so them, that Carl didn’t think it deserved to be in this context.

“We’re running away tonight.” It was abrupt and Carl had to look at Richard while he still had the back of his hand pressed to his mouth.

“What?”

“I said we’re running away. I’ve had things planned out for years now. I wish we didn’t have to be so young, but it’s happening tonight. We’re going home to pack and we’re going to be gone before your father gets home.”

Carl gaped at him, heart thudding in his chest. “What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? How are we going to pay for it?”

Richard rolled his eyes, which was too cold to be his Richard’s normal eye roll, especially directed at him. “I’ve been saving money, pilfering it from my father, doing odd jobs. We’ll go wherever the first train takes us. Above ground train. It won’t be very fast but no one’s going to think to look for two teenagers on the train. We’re going to change our name. Well, you are. I’ve already paid for fake IDs for us. I just need a name for you. We’ll pick those up after you get packed.”

Carl’s lip jutted out and his chin trembled. “What are we going to do once we leave?”

“We’ll go to London. There’s lots of places that’ll hire you, Pow-wow.” Carl couldn’t help but smile at the familiar nick name. “I can keep doing odd jobs, things where no one has to know how old I am or what I look like. I’ll build that up. We’ll enroll in school again, claim to live on our own. You’ll have to pretend to be seventeen but you’re big enough to do that. You’re smart enough to pass the classes for an older year and I’ll help you. I’ve got fake transcripts already. What’s your name?”

The first answer was instantaneous. “Moran. My last name will be Moran. It’s my mum’s maiden name. Even my father doesn’t know that.” The next considered a bit more thought. “Sebastian,” he finally decided. That was the name of the saint he was going to be confirmed under. The patron saint of soldiers and protectors. “What will we do for church?”

Richard rolled his eyes. “Do you really believe that if God existed, he’d have let that happen?”

Carl’s hand went up to the silver cross that hung around his neck at all times, one of the only nice things that he cherished. He wasn’t so ready to give up on God. “What’s your name?”

Richard smirked darkly. “James Moriarty. Pleasure to meet you Sebastian Moran.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Saint Sebastian is real and really died for those he loved and he's really the patron of soldiers and protectors. That just kind of fell into my lap. His Feast Day is December 18th which will come into play later.


	2. Escaping Isn't Running Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! I made sure all the names were right this time! So, if there's shifts, it's on purpose! Small TW for mentions of child abuse, which will be through all of this fic.

By seventeen hundred, Carl and Richard…Sebastian and Jim were on a train going anywhere. Sebastian had been humming that song nervously since Jim gave him his ticket. That was such an odd idea. For as long as Sebastian could remember, they had been Carl and Richie. In pre-school, when Carl—Sebastian—couldn’t say Richard, Richie came into the world. Even when the blond came in with a busted lip, swollen mouth and chipped tooth with most of his stutter and lisp gone (because he really stopped talking a lot after that and thought long and hard before he did), the nick name stuck. Richard, dammit, Jim!, was always mad that he didn’t have a nick name for Carl. Carl was a dumb boring name for a dumb boring creature and his best friend didn’t deserve it. Carl had always rolled his eyes and ruffled Richard’s hair gently.

Now, Sebastian was scared to touch Jim. He really and truly was. Jim had to be the one to crawl into Sebastian’s lap to end up where they were now. Sebastian had one arm around Jim’s back while the other was wrapped around his stomach. The blond’s hands rested pleasantly on Jim’s hip while Jim had his arms wrapped securely around Sebastian’s chest, head tucked under the blond’s chin. Sebastian’s head rested on the train window, watching the familiar landscape race by until it wasn’t familiar anymore. He knew Ireland wasn’t that big so he didn’t know where exactly they were going that they could keep going but they were and the train didn’t seem to be slowing down any.

They’d left notes at their houses, Richie and Carl did, saying that they’d be at the other’s house for a while, working on school. They’re parents weren’t stupid and they’d eventually be found out but they just needed a small head start. Carl took almost an hour to pack, especially since Jim kept yelling at him about what to take and what to leave. Then it was Richard who was with him again at the door, the soft, gentle boy Carl thought he might be having a major, awful, frankly (apparently) deadly crush on. Richard who curled under Carl’s arm, gripped onto his shirt to stay close. Richard who hated when Sebastian drove illegally and would crawl into the backseat and pull a blanket over him to claim he hadn’t seen anything. When they got to Richard’s house, Jim was already packed. He had two duffle bags, one of books and things and one of clothes. Carl saw him grab a silver necklace with a charm on it but didn’t say anything.

As they left the house, Jim turned to Carl. “Bastian, you realize that from now on, Carl is dead, right? So is Richard. They don’t exist anymore. It’s just Jim and Seb now.” The brunet looked vaguely pleased that he now had a plethora of nick names for his soldier.

A screech pulled Sebastian back into the real world. Jim cringed and burrowed deeply against Sebastian’s chest. The bigger’s arms automatically tightened around Jim, kissing his hair and watching the train slow down. “Jimmy,” he breathed against his friend’s ear, shaking him gently. “Jimmy, wake up.” A small smile flitted across Jim’s face as he looked up at Sebastian, blinking slowly.

“You remembered to use the name,” he hummed, licking his mouth and snuggling down against Sebastian again. The blond wanted to say Richard. He really did. This was Richard. This was his best friend. This was the same thing they’d done all their lives.

“You have to get up. We’re stopping. Don’t want to circle right back to where we were.” Sebastian shifted slightly, sitting up and cringing at the pain in his back.

They knew people stared at them. Even catching the train on the bad side of town, they still looked the worst out of everyone. They’d stopped at Carl’s house, knowing that no one would be home until later that evening, and used the shower to get as much blood off as possible. Jim had insisted that they smear blood around to make it seem like they were attacked, then Richard cried when he saw it later. It took almost thirty minutes to clean and bandage their wounds. Sebastian was worried they’d be recognized. Then he remembered that if there was a community that would never talk to the coppers, it was this one.

Sebastian stood up with Jim, holding him close. “Come on. I’ll carry the bags, you tell me where to go.” Jim took Sebastian’s hand slowly, threading their fingers together for a short squeeze. Someone bumped into their door and they jumped apart as if they’d been burned. Hometown or not, they were still in danger doing this. Sebastian quickly pulled various bags onto his shoulders and back.

As Jim stepped into the aisle, Sebastian grabbed the back of his shirt, holding on tightly. He wouldn’t lose Jim and now that he knew all the different ways he could do that, he definitely wasn’t letting the other out of his sight.

Jim sagged back against Sebastian slightly, avoiding the odd gazes on them. They were in a more populated region now, higher class. Fifteen year olds with no parents were a norm in their hometown. Not here apparently. “Just walk. Act like we belong here,” Jim whispered up at Sebastian. They made their way through the train station, out into the real world. A sudden wave of innate fear and just as much courage flooded into Sebastian. He took a deep breath, letting the cool air wash over his face before continuing to walk. Jim melted back to walk side by side.

“I figured we could get to the airport tomorrow. We’re gonna need to crash somewhere though,” Jim said, taking one of the bags. It was Sebastian’s, an old gym bag that had a handle almost as long as Jim, so it was nearly dragging on the ground. Sebastian had to laugh at that. It was cute and Richard. “Shut up! Fifteen year olds with no parents and bags are less conspicuous than fifteen year olds with no parents and no bags.”

Sebastian shrugged and shrugged one of Jim’s bags off his shoulder, taking his back. “Here. More your size.”

“I’ll show you my size, you oaf!” Jim growled back, hitting Sebastian’s side and looking instantly guilty as Sebastian winced and let out a contained gasp.

“Where are we going to stay?” Sebastian asked, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in his side.

Jim watched him carefully before shrugging. “I don’t know. Somewhere cheap, off the map. Somewhere that will take cash and not ask names. That way it can’t be tracked.” Sebastian nodded, figuring that sounded decent enough. “Do you know how to hotwire a car?”

Sebastian sputtered and looked at Jim with wide eyes. “ _What_?”

“I asked if you know how to hotwire a car. Keep your voice down, Bas,” Jim scolded, swatting at his friend’s arm. “I doubt your father ever gives you the keys to that piece of crap you drive around.”

“No. I steal them out of his end table. Why in the world would I know how to hotwire a car?” Sebastian squeaked, trying to remember what it sounded like last time Richard had cursed. He realized his best friend had never even said fecking much less a curse word.

Jim let out a huff and shrugged. “We’ll walk then.”

“Or get a cab?” Sebastian suggested, knowing his aching knees were not in the mood to walk until Jim was satisfied.

Jim mused this over. “We’ll have to make sure it isn’t one with a camera in it. And one where the driver isn’t a snoopy little shit.”

Sebastian cringed at the language again, knowing that it was hypocritical since he cursed himself, but still. “Sure. Just…I can’t walk.” He didn’t want to think about why. He didn’t want to ever kneel down again, actually.

The brunet hesitated before grabbing Sebastian’s hand quickly. “I understand. We’ll lay down when we get to a motel.” He gave his hand a soft squeeze before letting go.

Sebastian nodded, hailing a cab. Jim glanced at the inside then clambered in. He let Sebastian throw the bags on top of him, throwing them on the ground himself and crawling back into his spot on Sebastian’s lap.

The cabbie glanced at them in the rearview, raising an eyebrow. “You boys ready? Wrap a seat belt around the both of you. I’m not getting sued.” Sebastian felt Jim smiled against his collar bone and the blond quickly wrapped the seatbelt around them. “Where am I taking you?”

“The cheapest motel, closest to the airport,” Sebastian said quickly, petting Jim’s hair before realizing how that sounded. “We’re not…it isn’t for…He’s not…”

The cabbie simply shook his head. “I don’t care, kid. I get all kinds. I’ll gladly get you to an airport and keep my mouth shut about ever seeing you if it gets you away from that.” He gestured to his face and Sebastian remembered that both of them had bruises and cuts all over their faces and broken noses. He nodded, resting his head on the window.

“Thank you, sir.”

The ride was silent. Jim fell asleep, occasionally holding on tighter to Sebastian, whimpering and cringing. The cabbie kept his face on the road and Sebastian watched the scenery, not bothering to focus or memorize anything. If things went how he wanted them to, they’d never be back in Ireland but to burn it to the fucking ground and everyone on the pathetic fucking island.

The blond hadn’t realized he’d been shaking in rage until Jim suddenly sat up and pressed a pale hand against Sebastian’s broad chest. “Sebby, it’s okay,” he promised as he smoothed his hand down Sebastian’s chest. “We’re safe. We’re not going to ever be hurt again.”

Sebastian didn’t believe him for half a second but he nodded. “Let’s just sleep, yeah? As soon as we get there.” It was dark and any number of horrors could be waiting for them as soon as they stepped out of the oddly safe environment of the cab.

“Hate to interrupt, but this is the cheapest motel I can think of. It’s about two miles from the airport though and you don’t look like you need to be walking, not with all of those bags. I’ll show up about nine thirty tomorrow, okay? And I’ll take you to the airport. Please sleep. You need it. Both of you.”

Sebastian’s chest swelled in admiration for this man and he wondered why he wasn’t gifted with a father like that. Jim gave him a lot more than the ride was worth, but really, Sebastian felt it could never be enough, not to help this man and pay him back. Sebastian vowed he’d never forget him and he’d help him later in life, as soon as they were back on their feet.

Jim helped get the bags out of the cab, handing them to Sebastian. The cab drove off after the driver and Jim fought about him taking the money which ended up with them not paying for the cab, but paying for the man’s protection and promises. They stepped into the front office—if it could be called that—and the only words spoken were ‘Forty-Two Euros for a night’. Jim handed over the money while Sebastian kept his head down. He had no doubt his friend had already checked several times for cameras but Sebastian was nervous. They moved quickly to their ramshackle room and shut the door behind them. When it was discovered that the lock didn’t work, Sebastian shoved the table in front of the door. He wasn’t taking any leniency with this.

When he turned around, Jim was sitting on the bed, staring at the ground. He’d been unusually quiet around Sebastian. Quiet around other people was normal but not around Sebastian. Well…Richard was never quiet around Carl at any rate. “Thinking’s a dangerous habit, little bird,” Sebastian hummed, going to sit on the bed and wrapping an arm around Jim’s shoulder. The littler boy sagged against his best friend, letting out a long shaky breath.

“You think I don’t know that?” he chuckled, brows knitting together after a moment. “I know you said not to talk about it, but, in the bathroom, what you did…” He stopped speaking as Sebastian tensed next to him. “I just…Bash…Pow-wow…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“It’s over, it happened. Carl Powers died in that bathroom and Sebastian Moran wasn’t there. There’s nothing to say,” Sebastian said gruffly.

Jim looked up at him with worry in his wide eyes, looking innocent and Richard-like. “You can’t not talk about it.”

“The Hell I can’t,” Sebastian snapped. He stood up suddenly, tugging his shirt over his head. Even though they’d both seen the extent of the damage done to their bodies, Jim couldn’t help but gasp at the discoloration over his best friend’s torso. Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he dug through his bag, throwing a shirt at Jim, one that he loved and always wore.

“Bash…please don’t shut me off with this. I was there too.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I don’t want you to know what it was like, Jim! I don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s done, I went through it, that’s it.” He swallowed and changed into old gym shorts and a tank top. He crawled into bed and curled up, not tight enough though.

Jim knew that position. He pulled on the shirt, kicking out of the jeans he’d been in and sliding against Sebastian’s chest, breathing in an unfamiliar scent that wasn’t his Pow-wow’s cologne and body wash. When he said give it all up, he never meant to lose the little things.

However, the arms tightening around his body as Sebastian shifted to lay on his back and pull Jim onto the blond’s chest were a welcome similarity. He’d never let that part change.  He curled against Sebastian’s chest, pressing a small kiss to a scar under his collar bone like he always did and felt Sebastian relax under him. Maybe, just maybe, they could survive this.


	3. First Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I realize that in the show, Carl Powers dies. I've taken creative liberty here and just had him disappear so that's that. All music discussed in this chapter can be found on the playlist '90s Alternative Rock on Spotify. If more music gets mentioned, it'll be there too. That being said, this is in fact, set in the 90s and modern luxuries like cell phones and shit aren't in it and the technology isn't up to date.

Richard Brook had never been on an airplane. Carl Powers was constantly on them over the summer, going to India or Afghanistan or Iraq with his father. Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran were just going to board a flight like they were normal teenagers, off on a foreign study program together. Sebastian was dressed in a casual black shirt that made his hair look bleach blond and jeans that were ratty but apparently hip. Jim was in a green shirt with black edging and jeans as well, a little too big on him, different than his usual frame hugging skinny jeans.

Sebastian was nearly hyperventilating with fear as they went through all the gates and all the counters and all the people with fake IDs. Right now they were Ian Bahorel and Sam Feuilly. (Really, Jim? Shut up, it was a good book). Thankfully, everyone working didn’t seem to have read the book, thank God. Sebastian’s fingers went up to his necklace, pulling it to his lips and kissing it lightly. Jim glanced at him, scoffed, and rolled his eyes.

Once on the plane—after demanding they be together or so help me, I’ll sit in his lap—Sebastian leaned his head back, breathing deeply. He was mumbling under his breath and once the plane took off, Jim was able to make it out. “Whatsoever I’ve feared has come to life. Whatsoever I fought off became my life.”

“Is that one of those stupid rock songs you like?” Jim asked, glancing around and taking Sebastian’s hand in his.

Sebastian nodded, looking at Jim. “Thought you’d be staring out the window like some star struck first timer,” he joked weakly.

“And I thought you’d be calm like some frequent flyer,” Jim shot back. The small circles he was rubbing into the back of Sebastian’s hands negated his slightly harsh tone.

“I’ve always been a nervous flyer. Number one, being stuck next to my father for hours at a time was not something I wanted to endure but mostly, just the idea…” He lurched suddenly, hand going to his stomach, closing his eyes.

“What’s your favorite stupid rock song?” Jim asked as he looked out the window again.

“The Beautiful People,” Sebastian said after half a second of thought. “By Marilyn Manson. Dude’s weird but he’s got the right idea.”

Jim made a face out the window but squeezed Sebastian’s hand. “What’s your least favorite?”

Sebastian glanced at Jim quickly. “Zombies by the Cranberries. It makes me cry. It makes me feel alone.” He took a deep breath and kept an iron grip on Jim’s hand.

Jim nodded. He knew that song. He _liked_ that song, actually, but that could be forgiven, he’d never told Sebastian about that. He smiled at the memory of how he came across the song. He’d been in a bad mood, got sick, and couldn’t see Sebastian…no, Carl. This was a Richard and Carl story. So, the blond had spent almost an entire day creating a CD of stupid rock songs and brought it over to Richard’s house. He slipped it in through the window, then got chased off by Richard’s father because the idiot was wearing all black and looked like a burglar. Richard let the CD play and play, not stopping it for almost four days, no matter how many times his father yelled about the Devil’s music and withering souls. Richard would have pointed out that it was Sebastian who gave it to him, Sebastian the altar boy, Sebastian who never missed church, Sebastian who had that necklace and wore it everywhere, but he didn’t want to get his best friend in trouble so he took the punishment in time.

“Why can’t you listen to normal music, like, the Backstreet Boys or some shit?” Jim asked, jumping slightly as Sebastian barked out a laugh, jaw tightening afterwards.

“Right, I need to be seen buying boy band CDs,” he scoffed, shaking his head. Jim watched the other’s prominent Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed.

 Jim remained silent at that, watching out the window before beginning to doze. Sebastian didn’t. He didn’t feel safe enough too. He was too wary of everyone around him to even think about sleeping in public.

Instead, he stayed awake, panicking slightly the entire time the plane was in the air. Some little kid came running down the aisle and plopped himself down next to Sebastian at one point, taking his other hand and kissing the blond’s knuckles.

“That’s what my mama does whenever I’m scared!” he explained. Sebastian jerked slightly, staring at the boy.

“Sorry, am I that obvious?” At the boy’s confused look, Sebastian elaborated. “Can you tell I’m really scared?”

The boy nodded with a wide grin. “My papa gets like that to. Just like how you are. He doesn’t like flying. Mama does this to him too.” He kissed Sebastian’s knuckles again and the blond grinned, uncurling his fist for the other to look at his fingers. “What’s this from?” he asked, tracing down a scar on Sebastian’s hand from his middle knuckle on his middle finger to the joint of his wrist.

“I was cutting up a piece of wood for school and my friend distracted me and I cut my hand,” Sebastian explained with a warm smile.

The boy looked up at him with wide eyes and his mouth in a perfect O. “Really? Did it bleed? Mama says I shouldn’t think blood is neat, but I do.”

Sebastian chuckled and nodded. “It bled a lot. Look.” He flipped his hand over and gently took the boy’s. “See this here?” he asked, tracing out the green vein that stood out against the boy’s pale skin.

The boy nodded. “It’s a vein, yeah.” Realization dawned on him and he bounced slightly. “That’s why it bled so much!”

Sebastian laughed and nodded. “It is indeed,” he agreed.

“Is he your travel buddy?” the boy asked, looking to Jim. “You’re holding his hand which is what Mama and the teachers at school make me do whenever we go anywhere. I’m usually with my older brother unless he isn’t there.”

The blond looked at Jim and a small smile formed on his lips. “Yeah. He is. I’m making sure he doesn’t run away from me,” he stage whispered to the boy.

The boy grinned. “That’s what my brother says about me!” He leaned against Sebastian’s shoulder. “Is he your best friend? My brother is my best friend.” He paused, looking troubled. “He’s my only friend but that’s okay. He’s the only one smart enough to be my friend. All the kids at school are stupid. I used to think I was stupid because I compared myself to my brother but I’m not,” he informed Sebastian happily.

“Yeah, he’s been my best friend for a long time now,” Sebastian sighed, smiling at Jim.

“What happened to your face?” the boy asked with a sing song in his voice

“Got beat up at school,” Sebastian sing songed back.

“But you’re so big!”

“They had my travel buddy,” he explained with a shrug.

The little boy suddenly grew dark and angry. “The older boys at school do that with my brother. They threaten me to get him to do things.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What were you doing in Ireland?” he asked to change the subject.

“My mama had a lecture to go to. She’s a mathematician,” the boy explained with a nod.

“Oooh, that’s interesting,” Sebastian cooed. “My best friend loves math. He’s brilliant at it. He helps me with my homework all the time even though I’m older and in the advanced class.”

The boy nodded wisely. “I’m like that. I’m very good at maths.”

A chubby boy about the same age as Sebastian came up on the boy, looking relieved and angry at the same time. “William Scott! Did I say you could walk away? Mummy and Father and I have been searching for you! How did you get out of first class?” He sighed and ran his hand through his thin dark hair. “I’m so sorry for this…” He looked up at Sebastian, noting Jim next to him. His eyes narrowed slightly, distrust plain on his face. He pulled himself together enough to finish his apology, though it was more forced this time. “I am sorry about my brother. He knows better than this.”

“Oh, no,” Sebastian exclaimed, sitting up as he saw the older boy grab his brother’s elbow to pull him away. “It’s okay. He wasn’t bothering me. He saw that I was scared and was helping me through it. Really, he was a massive help.”

The other teen opened his mouth to answer but the plane suddenly lurched. Sebastian’s stomach did the same and William grabbed his hand again, holding onto it. Sebastian was sure he saw the brother’s face soften. “William, I’m sure you have helped this young man but you have to come back with me because the plane’s going to be landing and Mummy and Father want you back in your seat.”

William looked up at his brother with eyes that reminded Sebastian of Richard and he had to bite the inside of his lower lip to keep his chin from trembling. “But Mikey!

“No buts! You’re coming back!” ‘Mikey’ pulled William away, down the hall and into the next compartment.

The airplane lurched again and the fasten seat belts sign came on a few seconds later, as the flight would soon be ending and they’d be touching down. Jim stirred then, squeezing Sebastian’s hand gently as he sat up.

“We’re there?” he yawned, wiping his mouth with the back of his other hand.

“Yeah, just about to land.” Sebastian sighed, stretching his back and legs.

“You look better,” he commented, rubbing Sebastian’s arm.

“A little boy came up and was talking to me the entire time,” Sebastian explained with a shrug.

Jim nodded and yawned again, starting to come to his senses.  He jumped as the entire plane rattled and skidded as they landed and the hand on Sebastian’s tightened exponentially. Sebastian glanced down and shook his head with a fond smile.

As the flight dinged and announced arrival, people began milling about and Jim retracted his hand from Sebastian’s, grabbing their carry on and allowing themselves to be engulfed in the sea of people. Again, no one stopped them. One young woman looked at them curiously but other than that it didn’t even seem like they’d really been seen.

“We did it,” Sebastian breathed as they stepped out into the gross light rain. He much rather preferred to have it pouring around him, to turn his face to the sky and pray that he’d choke or drown. “No one said a damn thing.”

Jim smirked, looking at his friend. “Give it a few years. Technology’s getting better. They’re going to catch the other poor sops who try this.”

Sebastian shook his head and wrapped an arm around Jim, making sure to keep it heavy and platonic. “What’s the plan from here?”

“Find a cheap motel and stay there until we find a flat to rent. You’ll have to pretend to be eighteen for that. What birthday did you chose?” the brunet asked suddenly, looking up at Sebastian.

“December 18th,” he answered.

Jim took a moment to consider this, matching it to the information in his mind. “That’s the feast day of your saint,” he said slowly, nodding in affirmation.

“Yeah, it is,” Sebastian agreed with his own nod.

“When are you going to give up on all that shit?”

“As soon as I give up on you.”


	4. For Searches and Seizures

They walked for over an hour until they found a motel they could afford. The office scene was nearly identical to the last one, except this time it was a red headed woman who dealt with them and not a balding man. Their room looked almost exactly the same. The same wooden walls, same stained carpet, same set up. The fridge was a little nicer and the bed cover was cleaner but that was about it. There was a stain on the ceiling that neither boy wanted to contemplate. 

Sebastian shoved the bed against the far wall so Jim could sleep against the wall and not fall off the bed because that had happened to them before. He went through some of their clothes, setting them in the drawers that were there. His legs were shaking but he had to do this. He had to make is seem like they were safe. He took half of the cash that Jim had and put it under the ice trays in the freezer.

“Do you think that’s really safe?” Jim asked while he tucked away clothes. Sebastian saw that flash of silver again before it was hastily stuffed in a sock. The blond pretended like he didn’t notice. 

“I dunno. I figure the toilet bowl is pretty cliché and who’s actually gonna look in a freezer for money, yeah?” he asked, glancing at Jim over his shoulder. The brunet was momentarily struck by just how attractive his runaway mate was. Even bruised as he was, Sebastian had a strong jawline and the short blond hair along the lower half of his face caught the light just right to create a gorgeous contrast to his tanned skin. He briefly wondered if the other would be able to keep that tan going in this drab city. 

Instead of commenting on any of this, Jim let out a huff and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Bastian.” Sebastian couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face every time Jim used a nick name. 

“Better watch yourself,” he warned with a grin. “Keep up that short name business and I’ll have to resort to crazy ones for you.”  
Jim chuckled, laying across the bed. “King is good,” he hummed at the ceiling.

Sebastian shook his head as he came into the other room and laid next to Jim. “When do we register for school?” he asked as he pillowed his head on his folded arms.  
“We can go tomorrow,” Jim said with a shrug. “I can call and set something up. Well, you could, since you have to be the adult.” The brunet shuddered. “God, what a thought. You being the mature one out of us.”

Sebastian shuddered for another reason entirely. To think that he’d technically be Jim’s guardian—at least, in some’s eyes—was not something he wanted to be. What if Jim got hurt? What if Sebastian fucked up and lost him? What if something happened and they were separated? Or, worst, what if they were found out and sent back home. He assumed they’d be a news story. Maybe not all the way out here, but still. The only good thing to come out of that would be that Carl and Richard never took normal pictures unless they were together. The only updated picture Carl’s father had of him would be the ID to get on base to train and he was nearly unrecognizable in the uniform with his cropped hair. And Richard’s family, to Sebastian’s knowledge, never took pictures. 

“I’ll protect you,” he promised, unfolding one arm and finding Jim’s hand to squeeze it lightly. “Always.”

They stayed like that, in content silence, until Sebastian started to shake his leg, a sign Jim knew meant that the blond needed to get up and do something. He sighed and reached for the drawstring bag on the bed, produced a pack of smokes, and threw it on Sebastian’s chest. “Go. Don’t get caught, yeah? It’d put a damper on things. And don’t you dare light that in here,” he growled out in warning. 

Sebastian gladly took the pack and stood up, grabbing the book of matches by the door on the end table and stepping out into the same gross drizzly rain. His stomach growled and he realized it had been a day since they’d eaten anything. He’d have to fix that soon. But, right now, he was smoking and that was all that mattered. He used the brick wall to light the first match, cig already between his lips. He inhaled the smoke as soon as the tip lit up and let it burn all the way to the back of his mouth, as if it could sear away all the other things that had touched that. He coughed and took another drag, sliding down the wall and leaning his head back. He knew he shouldn’t chain smoke. They didn’t have the money or the really legal qualifications to buy any but he needed it. God, he needed it. He wanted something in his mouth that he put there. That he wanted. If he was going to choke, it was going to be on his own terms. 

He went through four cigs before anyone passed by. They glanced at him but didn’t say anything. It was number six before the TV in the display window across the street offered anything interesting. He automatically recognized his ID picture, then a clip of his father. He couldn’t hear anything, but he knew that his father was acting. It was all a charade, a pretty mask, a sure fire next term. He saw pictures of his house, the blood they’d smeared, the finger nail marks. A woman newscaster dressed in an awful beige skirted suit came on, looking somber and worried, moreso than Augustus even. A blue screen appeared after a few moments and words were printed across it. 

TWO TEEN MALES MISSING  
AGE FIFTEEN  
ONE IS ABOUT 5’ 6”. DARK HAIR. DARK EYES. WEARING JEANS, A RED SHIRT, AND A BLACK LEATHER JACKET.  
THE OTHER IS 5’ 11”. BLOND HAIR. CREW CUT. BLUE EYES. WEARING JEANS, A GREEN SHIRT, AND A GREEN MILITARY JACKET.  
THEY WERE LAST SEEN LEAVING THE HOUSE EARLY THIS MORNING.  
THEIR SCHOOL SAYS THEY WERE THERE UNTIL LUNCH.  
STUDENTS ARE CLAIMING NOT TO KNOW IF THEY LEFT OR WERE CALLED OUT.  
NO STRANGE VEHICLES OR PEOPLE WERE ON SCHOOL GROUNDS ACCORDING TO RECORDS.

Sebastian shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. At least they couldn’t be explicitly linked to the description unless Sebastian wore his military jacket or Jim was seen in the leather jacket. And even then, those still weren’t exclusive to them. Blonds and brunets hung out all the time and growing boys tended to be around those heights.

Still, he stood up and stepped out the butt of the cig he’d been on. It was the seventh and he hadn’t even realized he’d pulled out a new one during the broadcast.

Jim looked up in boredom that soon turned into worry as Sebastian came through the door. “You look like shit. What happened?”

“We made the news all the way out here,” the blond muttered gruffly, wiping his feet on the little patch of carpet for just this reason, he assumed. “No picture of you and an old one of me. They said I had a crew cut too, so that’s different. They know we left before lunch and that you were wearing my jacket and I was wearing my military one.” He took a deep breath, coughing a little at the lack of smoke.

“How many did you go through?” Jim asked, instead of pressing the news cast.

“Seven,” Sebastian admitted sheepishly. Jim rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing a hoodie, instead of the worn, warm, oversized jacket that he so loved. 

“Looks like it’s time for a trip to the store. We’ll keep it frugal, look like two kids just spending a weekend alone. We’ll get you a pack with this.” Jim threw a card at Sebastian and he looked at his face but not his birth year and not his name. Any of them. 

“Jesus, Jim, what the hell are you doing with all these?”

Jim shrugged, hiding their bags. “I knew we’d run into things where we needed different personalities, run into different needs. Besides, it’s harder to track a face than a name.”  
“Doesn’t look like my father’s trying so hard,” Sebastian said. “Not more than he needs to.”

“And I doubt my father is but it’s still better to be safe than sorry. Besides, people are getting squirmy about selling cigs to younger people. And you never know what we’ll have to buy and what issues we’ll run into.”

Sebastian shrugged and slipped the card into his back pocket. “We don’t’ need to waste our money on cigs, you know,” he muttered.

Jim looked at him and narrowed his eyes. “Then stop chainsmoking them and make them last. I know how you get without a smoke in a length of time.”

“I’m not that bad,” Sebastian defended gruffly, pulling the door open and ushering Jim outside. It was still drizzling. God, he hated it. He wanted sun and heat and sand. He wanted to be able to lay out in the day and keep the windows open at night. Then again, maybe he didn’t.

Jim went a little begrudgingly, stepping out into the drizzle and pulling his hood over his hair with a grimace. With his hunched shoulders and scowl, Sebastian thought he looked like he belonged exactly right here. Which was a terrifying thought because Carl would never have let Richard come within a ten mile radius of a place like this. He stepped closer to Jim, tangling his fingers in the red material of the hoodie, keeping him close.

It only took three minutes to get to a rundown grocery store, the kind of place that probably got ripped off all the time. Jim was much more natural about keeping his head about him. He looked like he belonged here. They were the only two in the store, along with a cashier of course. Jim grabbed instant mac-and-cheese and ramen, keeping it simple, while Sebastian grabbed sliced ham and cheese. They met up on the bread aisle, grabbed for the same loaf and smiled, genuinely, for the first time in too long. Jim pretended to knock against Sebastian who pretended that that had something to do with how he stumbled away and let Jim get the bread.

They were still grinning as they went up to the cash register, knocking their shoulders together, trying to trip the other, and generally being stupid. The cashier made a face, but rang up their items.

“And a pack of smokes. What do you smoke, Dak?” Jim asked, looking up at Sebastian. 

“Uh, just Pall Mall,” he lied. He smoked Marlboro when he could because it was better, but Pall Mall was cheaper. Jim evidently knew this and glared at Sebastian’s martyrdom but let it be. 

“I’ll need ID, kid. Both of you,” the cashier added, leveling a look at them. “Don’t act like you weren’t buying it for him.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, having been through this a thousand times with his father until he was told to just stay in the fucking car. He pulled out his card, handing it over and looking expectantly at Jim who pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it over. Dakota and Dustin. Sounded like they were brothers or some shit.

The cashier looked over them, still not impressed, but unable to do anything else about it. He got a pack of the cigs and handed it over, adding it to the total.

Jim paid with nearly exact change, other than the few extra cents and waited for the change while Sebastian quickly bagged their things, holding them all in one hand. It was only two bags and the bread.

Jim pulled him away by the elbow and scowled at the receipt. “You’re right. We can’t afford your smoking habit, even with your generous sacrifice.” He said it with a malicious undercurrent and Sebastian frowned, looking at his friend before shaking his head. He wouldn’t press it, lest he get in more trouble.

“It’s fine. I’ll finish this one as slowly as possible and not buy again until we have a steady income. It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, pulling the hood over Jim’s head again and draping an arm around Jim’s shoulders. He knew how to make that look platonic. The stupid gait he had to use, like he was drunk, how far away he’d need to be from Jim, the grin that would let everyone know how much of a joke this was, even though the last thing he thought of Jim as was a joke.

“You do that, Moran,” Jim mumbled, letting Sebastian’s arm remain there, even sinking into the protective embrace a little because Sebastian was the only thing he trusted right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In London, in the 90s, you could buy cigs at 16. The law changed to 18 in 2006.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Saint Sebastian is real and really died for those he loved and he's really the patron of soldiers and protectors. That just kind of fell into my lap. His Feast Day is December 18th which will come into play later.


End file.
